Like he's reading my mind, he hits the button for the partition. "I think we should talk about the incident."
The incident. I smirk at him. "Are you sure we should be discussing this here? It might be bugged."
Adrian rolls his eyes, but at least he smiles a little. "I hate to break it to you, but I think everyone already knows."
"Oh, shit? You think?" I lean back in my seat. "I'm sure it didn't look suspicious at all, to anyone with working eyeballs."
"Not so much that, as the fact that you didn't warn me you're a screamer." He's not really looking at me now, but he's running his thumb along the pad of each finger, over and over and over again, a nervous tic. "Pools tend to echo, you know."
I scoff at him, eyes widening. "Uh, if you think that was a scream…"
He gives me a sour look. "Don't. I'm trying to be serious."
Well, that's something new.
"Yeah, well." I clear my throat. "As long as we're being serious, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let things escalate the way they did."
I don't really know what I'm saying, but I feel like I have to say something.
"You're sorry? Meghan…" He sighs. "I goaded you. It was immature. I didn't think things were going to move in that direction, of course, or I wouldn't have. But I started it. There's no question about that."
"Don't look so scared."
"I'm not scared," he insists. "But this isn't like everything else with us. This is different. I crossed a line."
I'm laughing in disbelief. "Seriously? Seriously? This is where you're suddenly going to grow a conscience? Just because your dick was involved?"
His jaw twitches. "Do you have some other problem you want to discuss, Meghan?"
Could he possibly be serious? Is he really that deluded? Does he think there was something healthy about our relationship before furtive handjobs became involved?
Holy shit, he's even more disconnected from reality than I thought.
"Yeah. No. Sorry." I fold my arms across my chest. There's no point in trying to explain it to him. "Thanks for your concern, but you didn't take advantage of me. I practically shoved your hand between my legs. I was in a weird mood."
That's one way to put it.
He's irritated now. So am I. I wish he hadn't brought it up. We could have done just fine, pretending it never happened. I'm certainly not giving in to those urges again. Not even if he looks absolutely sinful in that suit. Now that I know exactly what's underneath, it's no longer just a coy promise.
"You're going to meet my publicist, Kara," he says abruptly, after a long silence. "Obviously she'll be playing your agent now. Unlikely to matter much, just let her do the talking when the time comes."
I don't know what that means, but I certainly don't like the sound of it.
"Kara, huh?" I cross my arms. "Right. I forgot about Kara."
He gives me a warning look, but I ignore him. I have no idea why the idea of this woman practically makes me break out in hives. Maybe because it seems insane that Adrian would ever take someone's advice, or to defer to anyone else's wisdom, for any reason, ever. All the times I've talked to a brick wall, and all this Kara has to do is make a suggestion and suddenly he's running all over town and coming up with elaborate schemes.
I'm being ridiculous. Mostly because his hand is resting on his knee, and I can't stop thinking about how his fingers felt when he touched me.
***
I've been practicing my autograph (Natalie's autograph, rather), and my smile. But nothing - nothing - could have prepared me for what's waiting in that hotel conference room.
They're all clutching copies of the latest book, and I'm kind of curious how the hell he got them to press so quickly when I was just reading a draft copy last week, but of course he's got his ways. The whole building is practically quivering with hormones. And I can see a lot of them staring at Adrian and murmuring to each other, which makes me feel like I've swallowed an entire tub of thumbtacks. I don't particularly want to examine why.
'What if I stripped down to my bra and panties?' Fucking idiot. Of course he didn't want to talk to you, he's embarrassed for you. Throwing yourself at him. What the hell were you thinking?
It's a motley crew in here. A couple tables down, there's some guy in a fucking cape, for instance - I hope for his sake that he writes vampire romance, because otherwise there's no goddamn excuse for that. I'm not sure why Adrian was so obsessed with me getting nice clothes. I'm pretty sure one of the authors a couple seats down is wearing a Disneyland sweatshirt that says "1994" on it.
Well, he's trying to project a certain image. I don't know exactly how much money these books have made him, but it's enough that he's not concerned about appearing as my "editor" in a suit that most editors wouldn't be able to afford if they saved for ten years. I must be paying him one hell of a bonus.
A woman comes storming in through the side door. She's a bit tall, not as tall as I am, but she's slender and athletic. I imagine she's pushing forty, although she's doing a decent job at passing for thirty-something. Her business suit is sharp and angular, and pretty sleek, but next to Adrian's it looks like something from K-Mart.
"You came in here without me?" she hisses, directing her glare at the man himself.
Adrian shrugs. "You were late," he says. "Natalie here was just wondering where you were."
He gestures to me, meaningfully. I realize this is Kara, and she has obviously forgotten whose agent she's supposed to be.
"Right. Well." Kara lets out a humorless laugh. "I hope you're ready for this."
A few moments later, the floodgates open.
Thankfully, the organizers here are obsessed with keeping the line moving. There's no time for detailed questions that would actually require me to think, although at this point I'm pretty sure I know Adrian's work better than he does. I sign and sign, and smile, and shake hands, and smile some more.
"Your books saved my marriage…"
"My husband told you to say thank you, from him…"
"You made me love reading again…"
Adrian's head is going to swell so big it fills the whole room. I'm absolutely sure of it.
I demur as much as I can. "Oh, you know, just doing what I love…thank you, that means so much…thank you…"
I'm surprised it takes as long as it does for someone to ask me for a picture.
"Um…" I glance around the room. I'm not sure if this is allowed, and more than that, not sure if I want my face plastered all over the internet as Natalie McBride.